But there was one thing that puzzled me. In the soft mud near the forest fringe I found hoof-prints. They came near, but stayed outside the ring. The horse had trampled the ground as if it had stood there and been restless for some time. Then it had gone, back among the trees.

Could Harn have got hold of a horse? Could it carry both of them? In one way it would make tracking them easier, but they would move fast then, faster than me.

Don’t make problems, old Jelly used to say. Think things out, be clear, and always watch your back. I remembered that when I turned round.

The cromlech is huge, close up. One great lintel-stone balances on three others, the whole thing black against the sky. It must be thousands of years old. I don’t know if there are any bodies buried under it, but there are carvings; spirals and strange zigzags, powdered with lichen. It seems impossible to me that the Sekoi could have put these up. There are so few Sekoi, and they always seem so lazy.

I didn’t spend the night by the thing, but up in the wood, and I wasn’t comfortable. Noises whispered among the branches; a faint breeze made the beasts restless and endless insects plagued me. Once when I sat up and looked down the slope, I had the feeling the stones were looking back. (None of this will go in the report. I don’t want to look a fool.)

At first light I set off. The horse-tracks were lost in marsh, but they started to lead west, so that’s the way I’ll go.

Atelgarsday, evening

I’m writing this in a village called Tis. At least I think that’s what they call it. No one here has seen Harn or the boy Raffael, but I’ve found out one thing – we’re not the only ones looking.

A woman here told me that about a week back, a horseman came through. He was asking for a man named Galen Harn, and even knew what he looked like – dark, hook-nosed, a limp. No one could help, and he went off east.

I’m assuming this is a stranger to the Watch, not one of us. So who? It’s clear to me he’s already found them – the horse-tracks at the cromlech must have been his. A red horse. Painted. They may have gone with him somewhere – if there was word of a relic the sorceror would have been drawn to it, undoubtedly.